


All I Want

by EliDeetz



Series: Starting Over [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, please comment the author needs validation, so much drama, warning: alcoholism, warning: depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 15:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10363245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliDeetz/pseuds/EliDeetz
Summary: Set during season 3.Two years after Sherlock's death, (Y/N) struggles with the loss by herself after John leaves 221B Baker Street, taking her heart with him.Sherlock comes back and (Y/N) and John don't take it as expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first John Watson x Reader fan fiction.  
> (Y/N): your name  
> (Y/LN): your last name  
> (E/C): eye color  
> (H/C): hair color as in brunette, blonde, redhead, etc.
> 
> Enjoy!

She looked at the clock, barely managing to read 11:34. Her vision was already blurry, still she couldn't keep her mind off of it. 

' _Probably already proposed_ ,' she thought.   

"It's late, you think she said yes?" Ms. Hudson asked behind her as she entered the kitchen, making (Y/N) feel that she was reading her thoughts.   

"Why wouldn't she?" The question left her lips in a whisper, approaching the glass to her lips. "She'd be crazy not to." (Y/N) managed to mumble before drinking half a glass of whiskey in a single shot.   

"What is this? Have you been drinking again? You haven't stopped at all, (Y/N). What is your problem? Do you wish to die? Did you learnt nothing from your dad's family?" The old woman asked raising her voice, placing both hands on the sides of her hip, her eyes piercing like blades.   

Normally, the (H/C) would've answered sarcastically, starting a brawl with the older woman, but tonight things were different. Before, she was drinking to keep her mind quiet and her damaged heart at ease. That night, she was trying to numb the pain of a freshly opened wound in her heart.

John had visited 221B after a long time of not even sending a text, just to announce he was proposing to his girlfriend. So, instead of shielding herself, she looked up at the only family member she felt she had left, completely opening her soul.   

"My heart aches, Nana. Help me stop this pain, please." Her voice cracked while begging for help, for she knew no amount of alcohol could help her feel better and forget.   

"Oh, my poor child!" Ms. Hudson cried while taking the girl in her arms, stroking her hair softly, like she used to do when she was just a kid.   

While both women cried alone in their empty and silent flat on Baker Street, John Watson suffered strong emotions on the other side of town as well.   

 

* * *

   
The next day was spent on her bed, opening her eyes from time to time just to see the sun rising to later hide again. Now, not only her heart ached, but her head as well.   

" _Sherlock, she's here! John, come down!" Ms. Hudson called their names while helping (Y/N) carry her things inside the flat, showing her where to put the heavy handbag she was carrying._

_Two pairs of footsteps were quickly heard, becoming louder as they approached the first floor. A smile appeared on her lips when seeing a familiar pair of blue eyes, looking for her at the top of the stairs._

_"Sherlock!" she chirped his name while jumping into his arms, much to the surprise of the blonde man walking behind him._

_"Come now, (Y/N). You know I hate that," the detective quickly grunted, while trying to free himself from her grip._

_"You know I don't give a shit," she declared, causing the other man to softly laugh._

_"I like her already," he said to Ms. Hudson._

_The (H/C) let go of Sherlock, and turned her head to fully observe the stranger in the room to meet a pair of tender blue eyes, nothing like she had ever seen. Blonde and silver hair adorned the top of his head, while showing a warm, inviting smile. He definitely wasn't related to the Holmes brothers, it was something anybody could deduce from just looking at him._

_"Sorry, Dr. John Watson. I live and work with Sherlock." He introduced himself, extending his hand for her to shake._

_"Oh, and you're not embarrassed to say?" The woman joked while firmly shaking his hand, relieved to see him laugh. "(Y/N) (Y/LN), former FBI agent. Sherlock's acquaintance for years now."_

_"Ms. Hudson did mentioned her granddaughter was coming," John shyly mentioned, probably doubting his landlady words, when noticing the American accent on the woman's voice._

_"Yes, she has been a friend of my family for as long as I can remember. She's my Nana," she explained at the man, who seemed too polite to ask if they were actually related. "My father and her husband were.... coworkers." She added with a soft smile, reaching out to Ms. Hudson and resting her head softly on the woman's shoulder lovingly._

_"Come (Y/N), we have a case and I could use you," Sherlock said, evidently tired of basic human interactions and walking up to his flat._

_"Go, dear. I'll be right there with a cuppa and some biscuits to welcome you to England." Ms. Hudson smiled at her while subtly signaling John to take her up._

_"Sorry about that, after you," John said, presumably apologizing for Sherlock's behavior, ignoring she was already used to it._

_(Y/N) smiled at the Doctor with the tender eyes, walking upstairs immediately after, feeling her stupid heart skip a beat for no apparent reason._

But there was a reason, a reason she would foolishly ignore, and lock inside her for a long time.   

She opened her eyes violently, feeling tears escape through the corner of her eyes, and her tired heart beating faintly but strongly enough to hurt.

The constant nausea and vomiting caused by the alcohol ingested the day before prohibited her of having a single bite, adding yet another pain to her hopeless being. But even if she wanted to grab a bite, Ms. Hudson was already cleaning her kitchen, she could hear the water running and the lady humming a catchy tune to herself.

She closed her eyes once again, after realizing she would have to wait to the next morning to be able to eat properly.   

 

* * *

  
Sherlock Holmes loved dramatic entrances, everybody knew that. And if he was to come back from the dead, no bloody soul had the right to tell him which was an appropriate way to reappear. 

However, given the fact that his best friend had decided to kick his arse, he figured it would be better to keep his distance and being slightly cautious while doing so.   

Which was why he thought,breaking into 221B, was the best of ideas.

Ms Hudson and (Y/N) would definitely be alarmed to think somebody was trying to break in, but relieved once they saw it was him.

_It was brilliant._

Once inside and seen by Ms. Hudson, her scream was the only thing needed for (Y/N) to come down immediately. 

 _Just a moment_ , he thought almost excitedly.   

Wrong.   

Usually (Y/N) would take from 15 to 20 seconds after the first second of a scream to take her gun, run to the door of her bedroom, and arrive to the place where the scream came from.

This time, she took over 45.

Nothing more alarming than that.

So, by the time she finally appeared to threaten him with a gun, he began to quickly observe her.

From top to bottom, he noticed her hair in knots from staying in bed all day; the smudged makeup in her eyes confirming it, also allowing him to notice she had been crying, due to the trails of mascara on her cheeks.

Bags under her eyes and the darkest circles he had ever seen in her face showed lack of sleep, insomnia, anxiety. The dryness of her lips, squinting eyes and shaking posture, presumed sickness or hangover. The second one being the most plausible, given the glass bottles recycled on Ms. Hudson's bins.

Her fingernails chipped and filthy with blood, explaining the marks on her arms where she had been scratching herself unconsciously, given her anxiety.   

He couldn't continue for two reasons. First, he had more than enough information to deduct she was going down a hole. Second, after recognizing him and convincing herself she wasn't hallucinating, (Y/N) tackled him violently.   

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" She roared while placing herself in top of him, hitting and scratching him weakly, while thick, salty tears fell from her eyes onto his face. "WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD?! WHY DID YOU DO IT?! WHY?!" Ms. Hudson quickly tried her best to make her stop, asking her in tears to get off of Sherlock.   

"(Y/N), let me talk, please. You have to listen to me!" He tried to grab her wrists in vain, looking for a way to calm her down.   

"YOU DIED, SHERLOCK! You died..." her voice started to crack and die down. After a moment of trying to beat him, the hangover took the best of her, obliging her to crawl and vomit away from him and her Nana.   

"(Y/N), listen. Moriarty had to be stopped," Sherlock whispered after she stopped vomiting, deciding on whether to approach her or not.   

"You died...." She sobbed, staying on her knees, not even trying to look at him. "You died, and John left..." A whimper left her mouth, before completely breaking down and crying non-stop.  

The younger Holmes brother glanced at Ms. Hudson, who was quietly crying while staring at the (H/C). He waited patiently, knowing that soon enough (Y/N) was to faint, giving him the opportunity to plan for the days ahead of them.   

 

* * *

  
The dim lighting of the room, and the way it touched her face woke her up. But the urge of standing up, was immediately ignored, given the weakened state of her body.

She looked around to find herself in a room that wasn't hers, but Sherlock's.

A minuscule feeling of pain obliged her to turn her eyes to her arm, where a large needle punctured her skin into her vein to connect it to an I.V. 

The events of the night before, flashed through her head like thunder. Abruptly punching her chest, when trying to process the fact that Sherlock was alive. And had remained a little over two years, making her think the contrary.   

"Sherlock!" She barked his name as loud as she could, while using every bit of strength she had left to at least sit up on the bed.  

The detective soon entered the room, carrying two cups of tea. "Morning, (Y/N)." He gave her the second cup on his left hand, while walking across his room looking for some news clippings he had laying around. "Have some tea, I have a case, drink up so we can talk about it," his voice was quick and almost cheerful, much to the girl's annoyance.  

"I still haven't forgiven you," She hissed at him, lowering her eyes to the cup of tea he had placed on her hands.   

"I haven't asked for forgiveness," Sherlock replied avoiding eye contact with her, as he often did when thinking about something else. Something 'more important', he would say. "But even if you haven't, here you are - "   

"Laying on your bed? Drinking your tea?" she cut him off, furiously snapping her head at him. "You put me in here, you stupid arsehole. I have an I.V. attached to my arm, how is this my choice?"   

"At 221B on Baker Street." The detective completed his sentence, ignoring the fit she attempted to throw at him. "Two years I was gone, and you didn't left. You had a choice, (Y/N). You could've gone back to America, but you didn't. You decided not to leave. So, yes this is your choice, and here you are." His eyes finally met hers when he finished talking, looking at every single detail of her reaction.   

(Y/N) tried to swallow a knot that began to form on her throat, she felt angry and exhausted. Couldn't bring herself to think about her actions, and how they could trigger Sherlock's deductions.

A sigh left her chest, eyebrows furrowing in frustration due to the palpitations on the temples of her head. It was beginning to feel annoying over painful.   

"Why... why didn't you give us a sign?" The question left her mouth in a heavy sigh, finally giving up. Lowering her guard, and acknowledging Sherlock had a reason for doing what he did. "I know you could've said something to either me or John, we could've helped each other, we-"   

"No, I couldn't tell to either of you, at all. You would've tell John, even if I begged you not to." Sherlock interrupted, not breaking eye contact with her.  

"That is not true, Sherlock. If either of us knew, we could've helped the other one go through this. I-"   

"Yes, it is. I know you would try to lie to me, but please, do not lie to yourself. Don't try to convince yourself that you were going to lie to John," Sherlock snapped, abruptly putting down his cup of tea on the nightstand beside the bed. "I needed the two of you to think I was dead, it would've been unfair for one of you to know and the other one not."   

"Oh, so instead of let both us know that you were alive, you made us mourn and suffer after your death. How thoughtful of you!" The (H/C) said sarcastically, trying her best not to throw the hot cup of tea on his face.   

"Why didn't you left, then?" He asked, moving his blue eyes from her to the door. Looking outside his bedroom onto the living room, where he, John and (Y/N) would receive clients.   

"Why does it matter? If you're looking for compliments, you're not getting any," (Y/N) argued, also leaving her tea on the nightstand.  

"I am not, it is more than obvious you didn't stayed for me. I was dead, it would be stupid to think that was the reason." The tall man glared at her, analyzing every bit of her being  

"Stop doing that, dickhead. Stop trying to 'crack' me, I am not one of your clients," her voice raised over his as she attempted to get out of his bed, knowing the I.V. was working since her appetite started to grow significantly.   

"Don't stand up from the bloody bed until you're fully detoxed, I already ordered something for you to eat." His voice was firm while trying to accommodate her on the bed, throwing the sheets over her body once again.   

"How did you- God dammit, Sherlock stop observing me," The girl complained, but still did nothing to fight back when he was putting her back to place. "And I'm not a junkie, 'detoxed' is not a word applicable to me."   

"No, but you are an alcoholic. You've been drunk for weeks according to Ms. Hudson, and while the alcohol leaves your system, you're gonna go through a terrible hangover that I'm gonna help you overcome," he calmly explained, grabbing his cup once again and finally taking a sip of it.  

"Why -"   

"Help you? Don't know. Well I do, I suppose to make up for the fact that I died or whatever," his blue eyes looked for her (E/C) ones in an attempt to make her laugh.   

"Imbecile." she muttered, lowering her gaze and resting her head on the pillow, feeling her whole body relax after tensing up so much. "I'm not helping you with cases, look somewhere else for help," was the last thing she said before letting Sherlock leave the room, making him stop briefly to look at the through the corner of his eye, his brows slightly furrowing in frustration.   

 

* * *

  
After a couple of days of bed rest, (Y/N) was finally able to stand up without feeling the world was spinning around her, allowing her to take a much needed shower. The cold water fell on her shoulders, washing away liquor smell that seemed impregnated on her skin. She now felt fine, thanks to Sherlock's care. Closing her eyes in the shower, the memory of the last time she spoke with John came to mind.  

_(Y/N) tossed the keys of the flat as she entered it in an attempt to carry the groceries on her arm more easily. Expecting to hear Ms. Hudson's music, she couldn't help but feel surprised when listening two voices coming from the kitchen. A small peak was more than enough to have her heart drop to her knees as she recognized John chatting with her Nana, but before she could retreat, he quickly turned his attention to the woman in front of him to the one behind her. His mouth opened as to say something, but nothing coming out._

_"(Y/N), look who came to visit!" Ms. Hudson signaled him the moment she turned to see (Y/N) standing at the kitchen door. "John is here," she exclaimed cheerfully._

_"Yes, I saw him. I'll be at my room," she grumbled, putting the bags on the counter and turning to leave immediately._

_"Oh, come sit with us my dear," the old woman asked her excitedly, whereas John remained dead quiet. "John has news, he's getting married!"_

_(Y/N) cocked her head to them when hearing the news, she felt her stomach turning on itself, leaving her completely breathless. "That's nice," she managed to mutter, making her way outside as quickly as her feet allowed her. A buzzing sound on her ears upset her as she tried to find her keys, the same sound not letting her notice footsteps behind her._

_"(Y/N), don't go," John's soft voice reached her ears above the buzzing sound._

_"Why? Now you want to talk?" She snapped, turning her head towards him. "It's been months, John. Months," her voice grew louder as she spoke. "You have my number, you have my email. You know where I_ live _!"_

_The man stood still in front of her, eyes traveling from her to any other spot around them, unable to look at her in the eyes. "(Y/N), I'm sorry... I just-"_

_"One day you were gone, and you didn't come back," (Y/N) shut her eyes close, shaking her head side to side. "Then you stopped calling."_

_"Please, listen. Sherlock-"_

_"Sherlock died, you moved on. I get it, you choose to leave. But now, there's no need to look back and pity what you left behind," she interrupted him once more. "I get it, John. I am not your best friend, I do not mean the world to you. I understand."_

_"That's not what happened, please don't say that. You are my best friend, you are," he urged, coming closer and placing both hands on her shoulders, trying to pull her in for a hug._

_"Just, stop.... Stop." the woman jerked away from him, nothing but pain adorning her tired features. (Y/N) turned her back to him, and opened the door into the street. "Congratulations on your engagement," she muttered before leaving 221B._

As she stepped outside the bathroom, the same pain that she had been trying to numb stroke her chest, making her feel the need to drink again. Quickly dressing, she walked down the stairs while putting her coat on.  

"Nana, where's Sherlock?" She asked at the woman preparing a tea.  

"He went out dear, with Molly and Greg. Probably a case, thought you'd left with them," Ms. Hudson answered, noticing how she walked towards the front door. "Where are you going?" She asked, following closely behind.  

"Out." Was the only answer she obtained.  

 

* * *

  
"Sorry ma'am, we can't sell that to you," the cashier shyly said, as if he didn't wanted to speak.  

"Excuse me, what? Is this not a liquor store?" She asked, glaring at the guy behind the counter in hopes of intimidating him into selling her the bottles she asked for.   

"We-well, yes ma'am. But we are not allowed to sell it-"   

"How in the hell are you not allowed to sell it?! This is a bloody liquor store, are you stupid? Is this your first day here?" Her voice raised as she interrupted him and started to lose control, for that was the third place where they didn't wanted to sell her liquor. The other two stores giving her reasons that she believed. But three on a row let her knew something was wrong.   

"Ma'am we are not allowed to sell it... to you". The boy finished his sentence rapidly, his voice cracking on an attempt to sound confident and overpower her complaints.   

His statement and the emphasis on the last couple of words triggered a thought on her head, the only explanation to why suddenly London decided to go dry: "Sherlock, that blibbering idiot." The woman thought outloud, storming out of the store into the streets. It didn't took her long to assume he had probably ordered every single place in London where she could have a drink, not to sell a single drop of alcohol to her. Probably with the help of his 'homeless network', as John called it. It was actually something she would likely thank him for a couple of weeks from now, but today she couldn't help but feel furious.   

Since arriving to Baker Street wasn't going to take too long, she decided to walk the way back to the flat, giving her a little more time to plan the shitstorm that was to fall upon Sherlock. A deep breath filled her lungs with the cold London air, something she hadn't given herself the time to do since Sherlock's 'death'. Going out was a torture given the many reporters who dedicated their time to try and make it to the front page by writing the best article about the late detective's two closest friends and their mourning period.   

(Y/N)'s head started to fill with thoughts of John. A part of her hated him for leaving after Sherlock died, but she couldn't bring herself to totally blame him, since it was more than obvious they were closest to each other than to her. Still, she had found a family on them, and John had mentioned more than once how she meant the world to both of them as well. So, she couldn't fully understand why was it so easy for him to leave her behind once Sherlock was gone.   

Less than a block away from 221B, (Y/N) noticed a cab stopping at the front of the flat, her heart turned and clenched when recognizing John getting out of it. She felt her body stiffen, her brain was ordering the rest of her body to stop, turn around and come back when making sure he was gone. But her stupid heart wanted to run to him, earning to see his face and listen to his voice once again, a wish to which she obliged to.   

The (H/C) walked faster and carefully, to avoid tripping with her own feet. But not fast as she wanted to help John fight off the men that now tried to force him into enter another car, nor carefully enough to notice the other two that approached her, injecting something on her neck and throwing her into the car after John.  

 

* * *

  
A couple of days after being saved from the Guy Fawkes effigy, and avoiding the explosion of the Houses of Parliament, (Y/N), John and Sherlock shared a cup of tea on their flat at 221B Baker Street. Even if John didn't lived there anymore, the flat was still his, and one could tell since the couch where he often sat smelled of him. Ms. Hudson still served him tea on the same cup she did since he first moved in, and he would sometimes stay whenever it was too late for him to go home, that only if Mary had a night shift.   

(Y/N) sat on Sherlock's couch in front of John, while the consulting detective spent his afternoon on his kitchen lab, much to Ms. Hudson's dislike. She raised her eyes from her cuppa to John, who quietly read a book, but not fully invested on it, since his eyes often drifted from it to any other spot on the house.   

"John," she called him after gathering enough strength to do so. Her cup danced a little on it's plate, for her hand slightly trembled.   

The doctor's kind blue eyes immediately met her (E/C) ones, "Yes?" His brows lifted slowly, letting her know she had his attention.   

"There's something I wanted to say for a while now, but... I just couldn't bring myself to do so," she confessed, placing her cup of tea on the table beside her, fearing of dropping it to the floor.  

"Go ahead," he quickly closed his book, and leaned closer to listen a little better, knowing it was likely she didn't wanted Sherlock to hear.  

She took a big breath in, fidgeting her fingers as if that could help her come up with the right words. "I wanted to..." She mumbled, clearing her throat trying to pass the knot that was forming in it. "I needed to say, that I-"  

"We have a case!" The younger Holmes brother stepped out from the kitchen, removing his gloves and looking for his coat excitedly. "Come on, quickly," he rushed them as he fled down the stars.    

"We're behind you," John lied as he closed the door behind him, turning to (Y/N) as she tried to put her coat on. "Go on, he can wait." He said, a soft and patient smile placing on his lips.   

Her hands met on her chest, clenching one another tightly. "John, I'm sorry," her voice breaking soon after.     

"What do you mean?" The concern on his face furrowed his brows, and he approached debating on placing his hands on her shoulders. "Sorry for what?"  

"The last time we met, before Sherlock came back. I mistreated you, I yelled at you for leaving and I just – I'm sorry, John." She sobbed, covering her eyes with her hands. The guilt she felt for apologizing to Sherlock after all he did, but not to John was really something she couldn't handle. "You were right to leave, you needed to do it so you could heal, but I didn't get that because I'm selfish and I wanted you here to feel better myself, I'm a horrible friend."  

"No, no. No, no, no, no, no. You stop that," he said into her ear, now hugging her tightly as she cried in his arms. "You don't have to apologize, you're not a bad friend, (Y/N)." His hand stroked her hair softly, "I was a dickhead, I didn't thought about you. Shut myself with my pain, and you were right, I left you behind, I did. Please, forgive _me_." John whispered, taking her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs.   

"You're not a dickhead." She breathed, cleaning her face and tenderly smiling at him.   

"Oh, I am." The doctor reassured, his eyes sparkling as his lips tugged into his characteristic sweet smile.  

"Come on, I said!" Sherlock burst into the room, looking at both of them frustrated for being deceived, a expression that soon changed when noticing (Y/N)'s tears. "Or not?" He gave her a knowingly look, staying quiet after.  

"Yes, let's go. It's okay," she smiled at them, nodding towards the door.  

"Let's." John followed shortly after, and walked behind her, leaving Sherlock standing alone.   

He looked all around, thinking non-stop about what had happened. Sherlock turned towards the stairs, inhaling as he stared at his two best friends walking down the stairs.   

 

* * *

  
It was a wedding to remember, not in the sense that ordinary people used to describe weddings. Most married couples would say that to describe their own, heavily implying that the love between them was like no other they'd seen. No, Mary and John Watson's wedding was to remember in the sense that an unresolved murder case had been resolved right in the middle of it, after the meal and before the toast, to be specific. After successfully arresting the culprit with Lestrade's help, after Mary and John danced their waltz, and after Sherlock deducted Mary was pregnant, the four of them stood still on the middle of the dance floor, staring at one another nostalgically. Much to the surprise of his three friends, Sherlock raised his hand close to Mary.   

"Can I have this piece, Ms. Watson?" He asked politely, leaving her and the other two slightly shocked.   

"Why, of course you can!" She gleefully accepted, taking his hand and permitting him to sweep her away through the dance floor.   

Leaving John and (Y/N) alone, he immediately turned to her, "please, allow me the honor." He sweetly begged, his hand extending to her.   

It didn't take long for her to accept, feeling her skin burn with his touch, they began to dance slowly, unlike the consulting detective and his best friends wife.   

"I'm happy for you," she confessed close to his ear, trying to be heard over the loud music. "Everything went smoothly, at the end."   

"Yes, except for the fact that my commander officer almost died. If I'm honest, it went better than expected," he joked. (Y/N)'s soft laugh filled his belly with warmth, a feeling he often experienced whenever she laughed.   

"Sherlock had to show off, and we know it. He loves to be the center of attention, he couldn't even let you have your special day!" The woman continued to tease, making both of them laugh non-stop.   

"My God, he's stealing the show even know," John added, moving his head towards their friend, who was now dancing flamboyantly with Mary.   

She turned to look at them for a moment, then moved her head back to meet with John's eyes, both of them bursting into laughter after a brief second of silence. The doctor unconsciously pulled her closer to him, placing his head on her shoulder as they kept laughing as loud as their lungs allowed them to, feeling how she mimicked his actions.  

They stopped dancing after their laughs died off, a silence crept upon them immediately. John's tender eyes blinked repeatedly as they often did when wanting to say something, his mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but nothing came out. She lowered her (E/C) eyes, breaking eye contact in an attempt to fight back the tears that were now blurring her vision. Deeply inhaling and gathering strength, she looked into his eyes once more, feeling how time seemed to stop around them. Her soft hand raised to touch his cheek, caressing it slowly.   

"Your girl is lovely, Hubbell." She managed to say without her voice breaking, her hand now delicately brushing his hair.   

John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as a warm smile adorned his sweet face, not exactly sure why she'd called him 'Hubbell'. "Thank you..." he simply answered to the compliment, suddenly feeling how his heart sank in his chest. Feeling the urge to say something more but not finding the right words to do so, he took her face between his hands approaching her slowly, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. His eyes seemed to shine, making him sniff back tears that he had no idea where they were coming from. Suddenly everything felt like a goodbye more than a celebration.   

A stubborn tear managed to escape her left eye as she received the kiss from the man she loved more than her own life. But nothing else was said, the silence between them didn't lasted since Mary and Sherlock appeared by their side shortly after. The detective gave her a knowingly glance, to which she reacted by telling the newlyweds to dance with one another, it was their party after all.   

After making sure they were distracted enough, Sherlock and (Y/N) managed to flee from the place without being seen. Throwing their coats over them while walking outside the place, the sound of music vanished in the air. Every step she took broke her heart a bit more, but there was no turning back now. A hand placed on her shoulder forced her to snap out of it, turning her head slightly to the right, she found Sherlock looking at her with a face full of an emotion she had never seen before: concern.   

"I'm fine," she lied while trying to keep walking, but his friend stayed put on his place. "Sherlock, let's go." Her legs moved, but they now felt heavier than ever.   

"(Y/N), please." His voice matched his expression, he reached her wrist and gripped it as tightly as he could without hurting.   

"It's okay-" (Y/N) tried to reassure him, but the crack on her voice let him knew otherwise.   

The tall man pulled her in for a hug, something he was certain he'd never do, if you asked him. As soon as she felt his arms around her, she buried her head on his chest, letting the tears she had successfully held inside for months to flow through her eyes. Wrapping her arms tightly around Sherlock, she allowed herself to cry as much as she needed.   

"It's okay..." she repeated herself, trying to convince herself it didn't hurt.  

"No, it's not okay." He answered, inviting (Y/N) to allow herself to feel that pain, while stroking her head softly.   

"She loves him like I do, right?" (Y/N) asked between sobs, looking up to meet his deep blue eyes.   

"No," his answer was quick and firm. Observing the concerned and confused look on her face, he soon added "She loves him very much, but she will never be able to love him as much as you do."   

She buried her head on his chest once again before taking a deep breath and pushing away from him. Taking his hand without hesitation, she pulled him to keep walking side by side and into the night from the end of an era, to start of the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was it, hope you liked it and I apologize for not having it a good ending. I was re-watching the whole series and I couldn't help but think how to add an OC that's in love with John without intervening too much with the cannon plot. I like to do that whenever I imagine a reader insert.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it, and I actually have plans for a second part. Comment if you'd like me to work on it and post it. I promise that one could have more John x reader moments and better ending than this one. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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